


First Of Three

by HelmetParty



Series: Mari Williams (Goes To Hell!) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, Bullying, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelmetParty/pseuds/HelmetParty
Summary: Mari Williams hates herself, but most of all, she hates everyone else more.





	First Of Three

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really obsessed with Hamilton right now. I should probably write something for the *thing my mind is on* but no, I decided to write my OC. Enjoy the Hamilton references that I will surely regret.

 She was at the crossroads of ruining her own life or ruining someone else's.

 The pent-up rage made her skin boil and her teeth grind, bone to bone. Her pale hands held red scars from her nails digging into the palms at school. She kept telling herself "just one more day, just one more day." But it wasn't just one more day, it was six months until she graduated finally. Six months. She hadn't taken her SAT's, or any other college affiliated test; this bothered her greatly, however, even when her mother had the application up and ready to be submitted, Mari said no. The constant anxiety about her future translated into inability - or rather, conscious choices - to not do anything to help herself. Besides, her future was typically far from front and center thoughts. Mari was taking things one step at a time, it was survival now.

 The kids at school we're no longer bullies but vicious criminals and horrid demons in her eyes. They beat her, emotionally abused her, done despicable things even in front of teachers and staff that Mari had been subject to. The boys often had bets; whoever gets Mari to say yes to going on a date gets five dollars, she overheard once in English. Everyone laughed, and they didn't even seem to care that Mari could _definitely fucking hear_. But nobody could come to her aid. She had no friends, never had, never would, she thought. Sometimes people would say hello to her, but Mari was certain that this was another trick by them somehow.

 She sat alone at lunch, in class she strayed near the back, and when mandatory group assignments were issued, she did not even attempt to do them. She simply took the failing grade. It got to the point that the teachers did not even hand her the papers and materials when group assignments were handed out; they literally walked past, said nothing, and gave her a zero. None of them had attempted to allow her to do it by herself, even though the situation was painstakingly obvious. 

 Mari Williams was not alone by choice, but by survival.

 Her cracked iPod came everywhere. She abused the school internet - and only got the password by overhearing a teacher give it to a student once -  to browse the internet, watch YouTube, and read fanfiction. She was entirely captivated by these words and, because of this, hardly noticed that school was actually _life or death_ anymore. Everything felt painstakingly numb. She enjoyed video games and comics, some musicals and movies. She sat in the back of the classrooms, one headphone in and the other out, laughing silently at people like _Markiplier_ play video games and fail. This gave her great comfort, these people online, though even here she had no friends. But even Mari knew, despite herself being clouded by numbness and abuse, that she needed to find comfort somewhere. Even if that was with someone who would never know her.

 Constantly she carried around her sketchbook, the only other thing she carried in her obnoxiously huge backpack other than a phone charger and an extra shirt, to draw. She didn't think she was very good, yet, she was indeed talented enough to gain small responses from teachers who walked by to see her art while they were teaching, and even a few students stopped to pay a compliment on rare occasions in the lunchroom (where she did not eat but drew instead). Mari drew mostly women and usually only very beautiful women. Though she would occasionally branch out to people like _Spiderman_ , since she adored the hero so much, though she often kept this hidden since the result was typically too self-indulgent to be shared without Mari feeling shameful. 

 After school, she walks to the shitty bus stop. Often, since it was the cold months, she would slip and fall onto her ass; where people would laugh. More likely than not, she was often pushed down too. The boys who also went on the bus liked to tease her about her weight - which was larger than normal - and about the fact she resembled a man. (Mari was mistaken for a man more than she would like to admit, though she forced herself to like this fact. At least when they mistook her for a man they didn't bully her as much.) 

 The ride home is long and annoying. The boys spend their entire time talking about the girls at school who they would fuck, their friends, the teachers they wished would die, and of course, Mari. 

 Mari, during this time, had both of her headphones on. But even still, she can hear their crude remarks.

 Her stop comes and nobody else departs. She walks the 4 blocks home, and up one huge hill that makes her run out of breath and heave the rest of the way home. Her black jacket is often covered with her dirty blonde hair, because Mari, with her anxiety, throughout the day would rip it out of her head as her fingers constantly roamed through the curly mess. 

 At least she's home. A safe space.

 Her mother comes home from work at six o'clock, her father worked night shift so he was sleeping, and her brother had moved out a long time ago. The house was hers for a short period of time; from three thirty to six o'clock. Her's to eat all she wanted, dance till her heart drops.

 But lately, even that is too much. 

 More often than not Mari arrives home, eats, goes to bed and wakes up the next day to rinse and repeat. Sometimes she would self-harm at night, with razor blades from cut up shavers and pencil sharpeners. But even this is too much of a chore now; and she never gets far, her skin far too sensitive to pain and her body eager to cry at the slightest feeling of harm.

 Crying to sleep is a daily thing, almost, and sometimes Mari can't even begin to do that.

 Her hands are red and cut up from digging her nails into her palms, and she is at a crossroads; ruin her own life, or ruin someone else's.

 A knife is in her backpack the next day, and she decides.


End file.
